New and Improved?

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According to my last blog post, it’s been 20+ months since the last time I posted…

In that time, I’ve been getting on with the business of life: grieving/healing from the passing of my father, researched/selected a therapist (then quit going), took a couple trips, saw some artists on my concert bucket list (U2, Fleetwood Mac, Joi), finished my second book… I’ve been living.

The past 2.5 years has been surreal. Nothing changes you like love and loss. But I don’t believe that I would change a thing. My family and close friends say that I’m different. Sometimes I look in the mirror and ask myself am I really.

As a writer, people assign a lot of meaning to my words – quotes, memes, status messages; everyone thinks they know you, but they don’t really. It’s been hard work to get to a point where I don’t have to will myself out of bed. The journey to feel genuinely happy and at peace has been a long-fought war.

So, yes, I am different. I value life, love and relationships more than I ever did before my Daddy passed. The innocence has been stripped from my eyes, and the rose-colored glasses knocked askew. I communicate better. I’m more confident. I detest dealing with bullshit. I am even more wary of gossipers and negative energy. I’m more open. I’m incredibly selective about who I share my time and energy with. I love who I love, and I honor those that I love with everything that I am. In fact, love is my cloak…my shield…my safety net. I wear more color, but more importantly, my life is in color.

In a weird way, all of the layers of emotions that I previously  seldom shared are now more at surface level. To a certain extent, I came undone and formed into something new… New and improved? I suppose that depends on your perspective. I am a work in progress – changing, growing, evolving, BLOOMING. After everything that I have been through, I will never be the same, and that’s okay.

The Struggle…

MisPadresWell, by hook, crook, therapy, Family/Friends, Tito’s…and of course God, I’ve almost made it to the one-year anniversary of Daddy’s passing. I cannot lie, y’all – at some moments it has definitely been a struggle (heck, I’m struggling as we speak). I think that if we had been in a better place at the time of his passing, this whole process would have been easier, but I’m not 100% sure…

Last week on my FB page someone posted a picture of Grandma Miranda (Daddy’s Mother)…that seemingly has reopened the proverbial wound that was not fully healed, and may not ever be. I began to remember him a little bit – how he would do this little crooked smile…nibble on the stem of his glasses…his hazel brown eyes…the fact that he always thought I got my dimples from/ looked like him (my Mother always said that I got my dimples from her). 😉

On the heels of those memories it sunk in that I will never see him again. When I was little I hated that he gave sloppy kisses (like, you could feel the wetness on your cheek)…but WOW, now 1-year later I realize that I will never sit on his ottoman by his big chair…or hear him ask if I’m still working?…or look him in his eyes.

The last time I saw him I got a bit smart with him (something that I’d never done my whole life)… I was angry with him. Towards the end of his life, I became really resentful of the wrongs I perceived that he’d done – to my Mother and my brothers. I didn’t like the fact that my stepmother’s kids called him Dad…or that on my last visit it had been arranged for all of them to come over as well… As the tears flow and my heart aches, I wish that I had just one more chance for things to have ended differently, but I don’t. And so…until I get through this latest hurdle, I will myself out of bed each morning and just try to make it through the day.

Emotional Warfare

 

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Lightning strikes
Inside my chest to keep me up at night
Dream of ways
To make you understand my pain

Clouds of sulfur in the air
Bombs are falling everywhere
It’s heartbreak warfare
Once you want it to begin,
No one really ever wins
In heartbreak warfare

If you want more love why don’t you say so?
If you want more love why don’t you say so?

{Lyrics from Heartbreak Warfare, John Mayer}


I try my best to be a glass half full, not empty person. But honest to God the past 5 months have been a test. People that really know me say they’re concerned. Maybe I should stop repressing…start sharing. If not with them, maybe to someone professional. For the most part, I just keep moving. Until recently, I just haven’t wanted to deal with any emotions.

Last weekend I felt so emotionally charged that when I stopped by my Mother’s house, I almost asked her for a hug… Almost.

Then I began thinking about what that would potentially cost me, and I high-tailed it out of there like Satan himself was on my heels!

Let me be clear about something…my Mother loves me and I love her. That said, she has been through so much… The old adage is true: hurt people hurt people.

My Father passed away this past November. I loved him, but we were not in the best place in our relationship… So many unasked/unanswered questions. I was almost late to his funeral trying to pick up my Mother. When my sorority sisters and I arrived, we waited awhile only to realize that she was gone.

After the service, no hugs…no nothing really. I get it though, I wasn’t/am not the only person grieving. I made the mistake of getting emotional one time and 2 months after the fact, got hit with classic emotional warfare tactics (via voicemail no less). Everything from I didn’t truly love him…to not being a good daughter. Maybe I’m not a great daughter – I’ll let God be the judge of that… I tell you what though, those words really packed a punch!

We all know someone that commits emotional warfare – sometimes it’s on purpose, sometimes not. It’s there when all those little things they’ve done for you out of the goodness of their hearts are randomly sprinkled into conversations with you…or others. It’s there when their love is given…as long as you follow certain conditions. It’s there when they know just what to say or do to hurt you so deeply…it feels like the most intense pain. Nothing hurts worse than pain inflicted by those that we love.

So how do you know when you’re in an emotional war…and more importantly, what do you do about it? Aside from the above, when each word that you speak feels like a verbal land mine… You’re constantly trying to make sure that nothing you say can later be used against you… When you dread any type of contact… When each interaction leaves you feeling drained like you’ve run 2 marathons across rugged terrain…all uphill. Experienced any of these scenarios? Welcome to the Emotional Warfare Club. Family, Friends, people that you thought were friends – anyone can level you with emotional manipulation.

But fear not, all is not lost. There’s one lesson that life has consistently taught me: You cannot control the words and actions of others; your reaction, though, is 100% up to you. It’s difficult to do, but the worst thing that you can do is respond to emotional puppeteering – it’s draining and very harmful to your Spirit and overall emotional well-being. Whether positive or negative, behaviors are reinforced by outcomes. Some people are not satisfied until they elicit a reaction from you. My advice…don’t give it to them.

Emotionally, you cannot afford to allow the poison of anyone’s words or deeds to infect your life. Melodramatic? No, the depth of energy that it takes to stave off the hurt from emotional warfare DEFINITELY affects you (probably more than you even realize). Love! Pray! Live! Light a candle! Have a glass of champagne, cigar or whatever you enjoy! {…and if that doesn’t work, find a therapist. That’s what I’ve decided to do}

Funeral Blues (or something like that)…

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I’m going to try to make this the last grief-related post. In fact, don’t be surprised if my next post is a link to a Nick Jonas song or something (is anyone else obsessed with that song, “Jealous”)?? Okay, I digress…

Which culture decided that a funeral ceremony was a good idea? Three days from now (2, if you include the visitation), we’re supposed to all meet at the church and lay Daddy’s body to rest. We’ll all be there – his wife, my Mother (his ex-wife), the kids (blood/step/half/whatever), siblings, nieces/nephews/etc. Yep, this won’t be awkward at all…

Dude, I am not ready. All of my black dresses are too short, but I can’t seem to make myself order another one. My tights are bright purple or animal print. My eyes are flat of emotion or threaten to get suspiciously moist at a moment’s notice. Which brings me back to my original question – who the heck decided that funerals were a good idea?!?? They are surely not for the deceased, because they’re already doing their thing on the other side!

When I kick the bucket, I want a succinct service (an hour or less). They can play a gospel song, but make it uptempo…none of that lagging Amazing Grace stuff. To be honest, I’d rather have a jazz band, or better yet, a kick @ss Prince tribute! Give me a party the day before or day after – and let’s not do a long drawn out scene at a grave site (in fact, let’s skip that whole ordeal all together).

But this is not about me… This is about allowing people an opportunity to say goodbye to him.

p/s – – – – Did I mention that I found out yesterday that there’s a Visitation AND a friggin’ PrePast (i.e. breakfast while folks are viewing the body). I will NOT be there for that. In fact in an ideal world, I would walk into the service invisible and coast through sight unseen (like Wonder Woman does in her “invisible” plane). I do not want the looks of pity, nor that dreadful tone that people use when they tell you how sorry they are… I don’t want empty platitudes or the sometimes half-hearted offers of help (death makes people seriously uncomfortable, and most folks are secretly hoping that you don’t accept – I can hear it in their voice).

Anywho, I just need to get through a few more days… I’ve been praying for peace for my father’s wife, my brothers, her kids and his siblings/the rest of the family. Soon, I will begin to pray for solace for myself.

p/p/s – I know that the picture is crazy old, but wasn’t my Daddy handsome? 🙂

Day _ of Grieving

To say that today has been a very rough day is the understatement of the year. From Thursday night through Friday I’ve only seen a few family members. They ask how I’m doing and I say I’m fine.

I. Just. Keep. Moving.

Yesterday I worked from 8 am to about 6/6:30. I just want to keep moving! I know that Daddy is gone, but I just want to pretend like everything is the same…

This morning (Saturday) I woke up feeling emotional, but I pulled it together. 5 minutes later I was on the phone with my Friend/Sister/Soror asking can she come over between muffled tears. From that moment on, I decided that today is a great day to pretend that everything is normal. Nope, nothing to see here.

Except… My thoughts are disjointed…nerves frayed…mind moving frantically, yet it feels like my synapses are firing through sludge. Is this what grief feels like?

I am strong. I will hold it together. I will not succumb to the onslaught of emotions that are threatening to swallow me whole.

I. Am. Strong. (I Really Am)…

I. Am. Also. An. Excellent. Pretender.

The Morning After…

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Last night I found out that our Father passed. In the blink of an eye I went from chilling sparkling almond wine to serve to my friend, to thinking about how my oldest brother was going to make it home safely…and how quickly can I get to our other brother to tell him…and who on Earth is going to tell Mother.

It’s surreal because as recently as Wednesday, my sister-In-law said that no one knew where he (Daddy) was, and they couldn’t get a hold of my stepmother. I was supposed to take some time and call around to local hospitals and rehabilitation centers to find out where he was. But time is a funny thing – usually when we think we have the most time, little do we know that it’s actually running out…

So here I sit at my desk the morning after finding out that Daddy is now with the Lord. I’m playing D’Angelo’s “Alright” because somehow I figure if I play it enough, everything really will be…  I haven’t really cried – a little bit with a couple dear friends this morning, but that’s it. I’m not sad that he’s gone because I know that with each passing year his health was diminished. I can only imagine what it felt like to go from being a big, strong 6’+ man used to handling everything to sometimes not even having the strength to walk.

I am sad that I didn’t get to see him one more time. I’m sorry that I didn’t get a chance to tell him that I loved him in spite of his imperfections – after all, no one is perfect. I hope that he knew I loved him…

So I’m just going to keep moving + doing + moving…because I know that his soul and body are finally at peace.